a gift of storms

I am wearing that dress,
the one I just got at Goodwill.
It feels expensive,
in its heavy lightness,
and I paid too much for it,
seven ninety-nine,
four dollars more than
I usually would.
But when I saw it,
I just thought it might
make you think of how
the sand looks
underneath an incoming storm,
those swirling purple grays
un-dazzling its diamonds,
dark waves curling like hair.
And I wanted you to
look in my eyes
to see the waves in them,
and the storms,
all electric
with
glass.